Fires of Kiev Page 18

  “No.” He paused, his lips twitching. “Would it be bad? You know—would it be bad for us to have something happen?”

  “Something? You mean a baby?” Meredith propped herself on her elbow.

  “Our baby.” He gently rubbed her shoulder and arm.

  Meredith felt the prick of tears in her eyes. Fear, anger, desire, and love assaulted her senses. For a moment she imagined having a family—Kostya and their baby. Her heart lurched. She couldn’t imagine anything that would bring her more joy. But this was real life and reality had to come into play sometime. Five years ago, she walked out of a hotel room knowing she could never make a lasting connection with this man—this perfect man who lived halfway around the damn world. Their differences were so much greater than what anyone could expect love to overcome. Yet, her spirit vibrated with the intensity between them. And even though they were here again today, and it seemed that the fates were trying to tell them something, she had to consider what was really practical. Could she and Kostya make a life together? Would the life they chose be fair to their children? She breathed deeply and sought his gaze.

  “Where would we live? How would we choose whose dreams to follow?”

  “We could make new dreams together. We could find our way through our love.”

  Meredith’s insides lurched with hope, but she knew it was hopeless. “The connection we have is indescribable. With you I feel like I feel with no one else. Even now, five years later, I have been craving your touch, your love. But things have not changed. I couldn’t ask you to leave the Ukraine any more than you could ask me to leave America.”

  “So we split time between the two. Our babies learn English and Ukrainian. We live in New Orleans or Washington, or wherever you want during the winter and come to the Ukraine in the summer.”

  “Is this about a hypothetical baby or about us, Kostya? You haven’t said what you want our relationship to be.”

  “Of course we would get married.”

  “Wait. Is that, ‘Of course we would get married because I love you and I can’t live without you’ or ‘Of course we would get married if you are pregnant’?”

  “Meri, I love you. Of course we would marry.”

  Meredith sat up with the sheet around her. “Well, that is the proposal every girl dreams of,” she said sarcastically. “The foregone conclusion.”

  “Let’s just go back to where we were ten minutes ago and start over.”

  “I’m not sure I want to take that risk, and since it’s not necessary to use condoms, we probably shouldn’t risk going back to any more of our past events today.” She twisted out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her. “I’m going to shower and pack for the train.” She walked across the room toward the bathroom.

  “You’re misunderstanding,” Kostya said, rising out of bed and turning her to stop her. “We didn’t have sex last night. We were headed there, and you passed out. But, Meri, when the time is right, you won’t stop me—not from making love to you, not from marrying you, and not from making beautiful babies with you.” Stripping her of the sheet with one hand and weaving his hand through the back of her hair with his other, he pulled her into his kiss.

  No longer able to sustain denials or excuses, Meredith fell into Kostya’s embrace. The pure energy of their touch blasted the artificial walls that she had built between them. Never one to break the rules, she found herself out-of-control and senseless. Her sole focus became Kostya and never letting him go again.

  More powerful than the drunken kisses from the night before, Kostya dominated her effortlessly, and she was seduced into sweet compliance. Under his spell, she followed him as he led her back to the bed with sweet touches and savory kisses.

  “Help me remember,” Meredith whispered as Kostya lowered her, his hands easing tensions with heat and motion. “Help me remember what we had that night. I’m afraid I’ve nearly forgotten.”

  “You’ll never forget, dushen’ka. No one can forget a love like ours.”

  “Then take me there again, Kostya. I can’t live without it any longer.”

  Together they created an undulating rhythm of opposites. As he rose, she fell. She touched and he held. Her breathlessness was met with his fullness. Her softness joined his hardness.

  And a memory would never be enough again.

  Chapter 25

  Kostya and Meredith said little as they prepared to board the train to Cherkasy. Their tickets were for an upgraded compartment with a little more room. Good. They needed to talk about their future. About them, together, as a couple.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about that morning and what had happened between them. It wasn’t just sex—exquisite, mind-blowing sex. Even thinking about it now made him want her again.

  But sex with Meredith, amazing as it was, was only this good because of their connection—the spark that shot between them the first time he saw her, stranded in her car on the road. It was the electricity that flowed as they lay in the field of lavender together. It was the lightning that flared when he made love to her five years ago in her Kiev hotel room, and amazingly, struck again today.

  He would not lose her again.

  When he saw her at the Immigration office in Washington D.C., he knew that he would never let her go. Politics, war, distance, and time all worked against them. Even when she was with Scott, he knew she was his. She wore the key, the same key he wore for the last five years. He must have meant something to her. When they made love, he was positive that Meredith was the last and only woman he would ever want. He loved her. The rest would fall into place.

  They waited, ready to load the train upon its arrival, and Kostya answered a call from Will.

  “Hey, is everything looking smooth at TRUST headquarters?” Kostya asked.

  “Yeah, everything is going fine. At least we’re not freezing our butts off here.”

  “It’s not too bad. For Kiev. In November.” Kostya snorted.

  “Yeah, let me talk to my sister about that one,” Will returned. “I wanted to let you know that we’ve ruled out all but the two Cherkasy locations for housing Soviet missiles.”

  “That’s good news,” Kostya said. “We’ll be able to focus our work just on those two sites.”

  “I thought you’d like that,” Will said. “Are you leaving Kiev now?”

  “Yes, just waiting for the train now. Did you want to speak to Meredith?”

  “Okay, that would be great,” Will said. “Good luck tomorrow, Kostya.”

  “Thanks. Here’s Meri.” Kostya handed her the phone.

  Meredith and Will spoke quietly to each other for a moment, then Meredith handed the phone back to Kostya.

  “He says good luck.”

  “I hope we don’t need it,” Kostya muttered to himself.

  Kostya and Meredith boarded the train, settling in their upgraded seats. Meredith asked to have the window seat, wanting to have a good view of the countryside as they traveled to Cherkasy. They needed to be careful not to discuss the specifics of their plan as they traveled, not knowing who could listen in. As the train pulled out of the station, Kostya took her hand.

  “Meri, there’s still much to say…”

  “But, we need to focus on the mission,” she said matter-of-factly. “There will be time to figure out whatever this is between us later.” As she spoke she avoided eye contact with him, even as he sought her gaze.

  She was right. He reclined his seat in an attempt to relax, but held fast to her hand. Gently he stroked her hand with his thumb and lost himself in thoughts of the future, both this week and, if he didn’t accidently detonate a nuclear missile, the years to come.

  ****

  Dr. Singh’s friends, Serhiy and Olena Melnyk, met them at the Cherkasy station. Greeting Kostya and Meredith as if they were old friends, the Melnyks immediately made them feel almost over-welcome as they did everything possible to be hospitable. They carefully secured their large medical cases and luggage onto the roof of the small sedan and settle
d in for the hour-long trip to their home in Oblast Cherkasy.

  “We have an old car for you to use when you are moving around the farming areas,” Serhiy explained. His graying beard and fur-lined cap framed his friendly expression. “It is good with the terrain, but not so good with gas.”

  Olena was pleasantly plump and blonde with curls cut into an ear-length bob. She spoke no English, and she spoke quickly in Ukrainian, sometimes making it hard for Meredith to follow. Meredith picked up on a few details, like they both had been born and raised in Cherkasy. Serhiy studied in Kiev, then left the Ukraine only so he could get his medical degree in the states. Returning to marry Olena, he served as a physician to the people back home. Otherwise, Kostya’s expressions let her know she wasn’t missing anything terribly important, so she just mimicked his responses, and let him take the lead in the conversation. Serhiy occasionally would grunt or nod at Olena’s ramblings, but his focus was on navigating the car home.

  Their home was more modern than the Dychenkos’ with dark brown siding and white trimmed windows. The concrete driveway was lined with beds that would likely be full of bulb flowers in the spring. They navigated the narrow stairs to the front door despite the large, heavy cases, and collectively sighed when they got inside. The mouth-watering scent of rich beef stew and yeast bread greeted them as they were ushered into the Melnyks’ front door.

  “I left the stew warming in the oven before we left. I hope you will find it to be an adequate meal tonight,” Olena shyly offered.

  “You are too modest, Olena. Dr. Singh has already told us about your delicious cooking. Just the smell of your stew is making my mouth water.” Kostya smiled at her.

  Pleased, Olena went to work immediately setting out generous bowls of the fragrant stew and cutting thick slices of warm bread with pats of fresh cream butter and berry preserves Meredith was sure she had put up herself in season.

  “Cooking a satisfying meal with farm fresh ingredients is an art lost on many Americans,” Meredith commented.

  “Fast society tends to look for things that save time,” Serhiy agreed. “At UCLA I think I lived on microwave burritos and ramen noodles.”

  “Would students survive without them?” Meredith laughed. “I just know a meal like this is truly a gift. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Olena flushed with the praise and started to clear the plates and bowls when Kostya stopped her. “I can do the dishes. It is small payment for such a fine meal.”

  “I’ll help you,” Meredith offered. Olena protested, but was soon persuaded to sit by the fire with a glass of wine while Meredith and Kostya cleaned up. Serhiy stayed in the kitchen, but poured himself a glass of vodka and sat at the table to visit. “I’m glad Achal thought of us to help you while you’re in Cherkasy. He said you have family around here, Ivan.”

  “Yes. My family farm is southeast of here.” Kostya started drying dishes with the flour-sack towel he held.

  Serhiy pursed his lips and continued in English. “Achal told me you’d be traveling under an assumed name, but I can’t help but be curious if I know your family.” He took a sip of his drink and Kostya glanced at Meredith who shrugged. “I assure you I am harmless.” He smiled.

  Kostya stacked the plate he was drying and leaned against the counter. “My family name is Dychenko. I am Kostyantin Dychenko—Kostya. My family has farmed our land near Smila for over five-hundred years.”

  Serhiy’s eyes widened. “Your parents were killed in the fire. I knew your father. He was a great man who helped many around here. He volunteered to make food baskets for the hungry last winter, and I know much of what he used, he took from his own stores. Your mother baked many loaves of bread and goodies for the children. Their loss is such a tragedy.”

  Kostya stood silently, but whispered a sincere thank you when Serhiy stood to take his hand.

  “Your family will always have a friend with our family.” Holding Kostya’s hand, he placed his other hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “And you, Miss St. Claire, need no introduction. I’m afraid I recognized you immediately.”

  “Oh.” Meredith sighed. “I guess I’m not the ideal choice for a covert mission.”

  “The important thing is no one recognized you as you travelled,” Serhiy reassured her. “I don’t want to know what you are doing, but I am proud that I am a part of it.” Patting Meredith’s back and squeezing Kostya’s hand, he shuffled out to join his wife by the fire. “There’s only the one guest room,” he called as he left, “but I can always find more blankets if one of you is settling for the floor.” He winked.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Kostya immediately answered, grinning at a blushing Meredith. “We’ve learned to share.”

  After Kostya and Meredith had finished the dinner chores, they joined the Melnyks in the sitting area. Serhiy was generous with the wine and vodka, but both Meredith and Kostya were careful how much they drank. The next day was crucial to the mission and they both wanted to be sharp.

  After an hour or so, Serhiy asked them to put on their jacket and to come with him. They stepped out into the biting cold made worse with the wind that was blowing across the plains. Pulling his hat down and wrapping a scarf around his neck, ears and chin, Serhiy led them into the barn about fifty meters from their home. Although not heated, the barn felt warmer simply because the walls broke the wind.

  Lighting a larger lantern, he headed toward the back wall, and he turned to them. “Obviously we no longer keep animals here,” he explained. He grabbed a pitchfork and moved a forkful of straw to the side. Kostya pulled gently on his shoulder and took the pitchfork, which Serhiy gladly surrendered. “When this farm was built, there was a tremendous amount of persecution toward the church. Under Stalin’s regime, organized religion was frowned upon, and clerics were often hurt or killed. My grandfather built a shelter here under the barn for priests who were forced to hide from the police.”

  Kostya uncovered the floor, and along the seams of the boards, Serhiy felt for and released the latch. A door rose, revealing a small set of stairs that led down.

  “Come,” he said, and led the way using a flashlight from his pocket.

  Kostya and Meredith followed down the clay steps into a basement-type room with a low ceiling. The floor joists from the barn floor above were visible, and walls and floors were lined with concrete. Although a small space, it had room for a small double bed and a table and chairs. There were shelves that stocked food, blankets, and fuel for a small kerosene heating unit that was in the corner near the bed.

  “I have made it as safe as possible,” Serhiy said. “The stove is ventilated to the outside, and there are enough supplies for two to be quite comfortable for thirty days.”

  “Let’s hope we wouldn’t need to be here for thirty days,” Kostya said.

  “But you could be,” Serhiy countered. “In the blue bag on top is a satellite phone. Achal sent the phone with instructions, and he said it would be totally untraceable. And I have components to a short-wave radio for communication, as well.”

  Meredith circled the room. She seemed impressed and frightened at the same time. “This room might save our lives.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” Kostya clasped Serhiy’s hand.

  Serhiy gestured for them to follow him up the stairs and carefully replaced the door, latching it securely, and covering the door with straw. As they walked back to the main house Kostya took Meredith’s hand, making contact through their gloves.

  After peeling off the layers of coats, gloves, and scarves, they were grateful that Olena had prepared hot water for the wash basin in their room and gave them a small bar of homemade lavender-scented soap. Thanking Olena and Serhiy, Meredith and Kostya headed to their room to sleep.

  In the room they found some other touches that Olena had prepared to make the room comfortable. Their bed was being warmed with coal in an old-fashioned bed warmer, and sachets of lavender scented the sheets and pillows. Meredith began undressing for bed, and Kostya st
ared, completely distracted by her. Her back was to him, and he could see her shoulder muscles flex as she pulled off her t-shirt and sweater in one movement.

  “It’s supposed to be warmer tomorrow,” she said.

  Kostya hardly heard her. “Mm-hmm.” Now, she was unbuttoning her jeans.

  “With any luck we’ll be able to put the big jackets away.” She slid her jeans over her rear as he licked his lip looking at her satin bikini panties. She pulled her jeans down over her legs and folded them roughly on the chair by the bed.

  “What equipment do you want to take our first day out?” she asked. She reached around and undid the back clasp of her bra. Her bare back was smooth and he longed to brush his fingertips along her spine, her shoulder, and then embrace her from behind.

  “Kostya?” She turned to him.

  “I’m no longer listening, dushen’ka.” He strode up behind her and gently ran his fingertips from her shoulders, into her spine, and down. She leaned forward against the chair, inhaling deeply as his touch commanded her movement. As his arms encircled her and pulled her back against him, his lips found her shoulder, her neck, her ear. He pushed her long hair aside and breathed.

  “Meri, we can’t fight this. We don’t have to fight it.” His mouth followed the line of her shoulders to her arm that he pulled to turn her toward him. She smelled of the lavender soap, and it reminded him of the summer day when he lay with her on a spread out blanket in the fading sunlight. Her eyes were closed, thick lashes fanned against her cheek.

  “Kostya,” Meredith pleaded.

  “Shh, Meri,” he said quieting her by placing his finger across her lips. With one movement he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his hips. He carried her and softly set her on the low bed, kneeling on the floor. Reaching to dim the light, he began a blissful journey to every part of her.

  “I can’t say no to you, Kostya,” she whispered in his ear as she sat up against him.

  “You don’t ever have to, dushen’ka. We have found where we belong.”